Dracoria Black and The-Girl-With-Demon-Blood
by Octanek
Summary: Lady Dracoria Black, the last living descendant of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Is tired of the wizardning world, where everyone sees her as a monster despite her help in the Battle of Hogwarts. Finding a secret house filled with many wonders, Dracoria begins to prepare for her journey, into another world. (ON HIATUS)
1. Prologue

Dracoria Black and The-Girl-With-Demon-Blood

Prologue

It was late on a Thursday afternoon at precisely 19:46 PM that a lone figure stood, overlooking the English Channel towards France. The figure, a woman, stood on the edge of a cliff, outside one of the ancestral Black estate she inherited from Sirius, ironically enough called _White Lodge_ despite the name of the family that owns it.

Dracoria Black, last living descendant of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black smiled for the first time in what felt like 10 years as she stared at a large rock protruding from the middle of the sea, the local muggles called it _Thatcher Rock_ and for some strange reason, it resonated with magic.

Dracoria always knew _White Lodge _was special, ever since she learned that no Black has ever lived there since the last Black who purchased the large homely mansion from a muggle in 1568, Philorinus Black, who made the buy never gave a reason why, in fact it was such a dull looking estate compared to the rich and elegant homes the Blacks where used to live in, that nobody even batted and eyelash, and just as quickly, _White Lodge _and it's occupantwhere forgotten to all, or so Dracoria had thought.

She found it accidentally of course, as such things often happen. She was pouring through the many deeds to estates and properties owned by the Black line. Dracoria was frantically sorting through the deeds, not even looking for anything specific. She needed to find a place to hide from the Aurors, from the blasted Order, a place unknown to all, and one that hopefully came with a Fidelius Charm. She almost missed it, but by magic, gods or some unknown force, she found it, '_White Lodge', _a strange name for such a dark family, surely it must be special in some way?

She noticed instantly, for Dracoria had a sharper mind than most, a mind that could cut and stab as surely as any Goblin forged blade, after some exhaustive digging, that the property did not appear in any Wizarding Census, be it British or International, and that not even the muggles knew of its existence, not only was it under a Fidelius, but also some of the most powerful wards, charms and curses she had ever felt, some she did not even recognize, they hummed with ancient power, far older than the building they had any right to guard, her own vault in Gringotts felt like a mere iron lock compared to _White Lodge. _

She suspected that you don't protect a house like this casually, not unless it's terribly important. And was she right, in all her years of studying magic, Dracoria Black, a woman who at 18 years of age, helped Harry Potter and his cronies to defeat the most powerful Dark Lord since Corvus the Bloody who ravaged Rome in 59 BC, even Grindelwald had his limits. Lord Voldermort was powerful, oh yes, _terrifying _in his power, a man who held Wizarding Britain on its knees, and yet, his power was nothing compared to what lay hidden within _White Lodge._

Libraries overflowing with tomes, scrolls, even clay tablets, containing ancient spells written in long dead tongues and complex arithmetic equations that made Dracoria's head spin, and she had passed all her NEWTS with O's.  
A garden, which contained every single magical flora known to Wizarding kind, she even found The Flower of The Moon that held within its petals the only known magic that can cure Lycanthropy, thought to be extinct 1000 years ago. Dracoria knew enough that should she appraise that single plant alone, it would be worth upwards of a million galleons, that is not mentioning the tomes and scrolls that where equally if not more valuable. Another room, in the basement, held thousands of wands, all completed, with various grains and cores, very curious.

The house itself was very homely, with small intimate rooms in late Stuart style, but without the brashness and pomp most Purebloods seem to adore. The floors where made out of polished oak, with some baring large Persian and Egyptian rugs, some animal furs. The walls where covered with sleeping portraits of past Blacks. The walls themselves where of a natural stone, one she could not recognize for she had no true interest in such things. The decorations where sparse, consisting of simple decorative cloths covering the tables and desks, mostly in green and black hues, and ancient oil lamps burned with an eerie green flame that reminded Draconia of the Slytherin common room. Statues, resembling knights and other pre-industrial muggle warriors, stone swords held by steady stone gauntlets. They guarded the empty hallways; all nodded their heads laboriously towards her whenever she passed them, a sign of respect for the new Lady Black.

She spent 2 years at _White Lodge_ pouring over every book, every scroll thought lost to the whims of time. Dracoria thought she was in paradise, such knowledge! Who knew crafty old Philorinus was such an avid collector, she sometimes spent hours at a time, her mind whizzing a million miles per hour and the hypotheses and guesses as to how her revered ancestor acquired these precious items, who he had to kill, torture and extort to get all this, truly he was a most remarkable wizard.

Other times she spent wailing, her anguish and grief reverberating around the house, causing the ancient floorboards to creak and causing errant cracks to spread across the smooth stone ceilings, covering every room in the house in a fine layer of dust. Her House Elf Prima, a gaunt looking being with grey skin and large purple doe like eyes and drooping bat ears named Slinky, so named for her penchant of sneaking around and muttering in a dull sing-song "Slinky slink slink away, Slinky needs to slink today..." Had gone mad waiting for someone to claim _White Lodge_, but drew some small comfort from Dracoria's presence, she often consoled her in her time of great grief, screaming over the sound of Dracoria's wailing, "Slinky needs Domina to forget troubled past, Slinky needs Domina, as Domina needs Slinky!" Slinky would repeat those exact same words over and over until Dracoria stopped, sometimes the wailing lasted days. The local muggles who could not see anything, but still continued to hear the unnatural and mournful wailing throughout the night, animals barked and whined and hissed feeling the pain and agony of a fellow being injured and offering their own primal comforts. The muggles had started to move away from the strange clearing between two houses, knowing for sure that it is haunted.

The wailing stopped after 2 year and 2 months, it was the anniversary of her escape from Azkaban, and how fitting that is on this very day that she found the freedom she had been yearning for! An innocent looking scroll, lying lost even amongst the forgotten, hidden deep within a veritable mountain of knowledge that had taken two years to sort. It was papyrus, clearly ancient, a time charm confirmed it and dated it 1404 BC, before Ramses II or as he was known in the Wizarding world as Ramses the Flood. Who washed away most of Egypt in flames and glory and revolutionised magic as we know it today. That made it unique in that it was possibly the oldest scroll in this collection, the oldest before it was 1232 BC, long after Ramses' reign. The scroll was tough and the ink vibrant as the day it was written upon, clearly very powerful preservation charms existed on it, as a test she carefully dropped some Basilisk venom onto a corner of the scroll, and watched in rapid fascination as instead of eating away at the scroll like acid as it should, the venom simply sizzled on the papyrus with a loud hiss, like dropping cold water on a very hot sauce pan, leaving the scroll as pristine as it was before.

The scroll was written in Hieratic, not Magi-Hyroglyphs the Ancient Egyptians used, as is common with their spells, but instead it was written using their muggle language, the language of accountants and slaves, and it spoke of portals to other worlds, intensely complicated arithmetic diagrams and strange sigils and glyphs, accompanied by bizarre rituals and sacrifices, what was required to create such a portal... But it promised Dracoria unimagined worlds and dangers to explore, treasures and secrets to plunder and collect, her mind bristled with the possibilities... Then Dracoria's heart sank, she was nowhere near powerful enough to even attempt such a titanic undertaking, her 5 year stay in Azkaban had stinted her magic to dangerous levels, if not for the protective runes and sigils she had tattooed all over her body, thanking Sirius once again for the idea, her magic would have been nearly gone, Dementors especially loved her, she was strife with many feelings, love, hate, grief, confusion, envy, pride... So many emotions, but she weathered the storm, withstood the brunt of 4-5 Dementors hovering over her every day for 5 fucking years!

She understood why they did it, even if the betrayal stung worse than any Cruciatus Voldermort could spit at her, she was dangerous, she killed all those muggle-borns, she had to be locked up! Never mind that without her sudden and most un-Slytherin like behaviour, rushing to the defence of the Granger girl that was nearly crushed under the jaws of Nagini, Voldermorts familiar and living horcrux, if not for Dracoria, more would have died that day before Voldermort eventually fell, she remembered in amazement how she, a _Slytherin_ was able to lift the fabled sword of Godric Gryffindor and sever the snakes head, giving Potter the chance to destroy Voldermort for good. It was no use explaining to them of course, they could never give up years of hate and mistrust, Potter tried to reason with them, the vainglorious fool, thinking he could make everything better, but in the end he had to give in to their demands and send Dracoria to Azkaban for life, maximum security wing naturally, nobody even bothered to ask _how_ she lifted the sword, or even why.

Dracoria admitted she was wrong, that was part of why she wailed all those years, her shame and self-loathing had finally caught up with her, all those innocent eyes, staring blankly at her as she cast the killing curses that ended their lives. Voldermort laughed behind her, a cold heartless laugh that held no mirth, only contempt and glee at the slaughter in front of him. She **HAD** to do something to make it right, but she could not stay here, not while the pain was still fresh in everyone, there was nothing for her here, not at the present at least.

The escape was sweet; the rush of air through her hair, the smell of the ocean breeze and the salty sting of the water as she flew away from that dreaded island, was even sweeter. For 5 years she kept one memory close, it was special, and very dear to her, she hid it under the most powerful shields her Occlumency could conjure, far away from the eager maws of her Dementor jailors. For 5 agonizing years she held onto that memory with dear life as she devised away to escape, it took 5 years, but it worked.

In the end, it was quite simple, moronically so, those bumbling half-witted dragonshits they called 'Aurors' guarding Azkaban where nothing short of sheer incompetence itself, evidently the Ministry has slacked in light of Voldermorts defeat, one even brought his new Firebolt 3, to show off to the others, which provided her a perfect means of escape, she was originally going to swim! Then Dracoria remembered the bright silver dragon that erupted from the stolen Aurors wand (who wandered a bit too closely to her cell as he was delivering her food) as she cast her first and only Patronus. The great silver and blue beast was a Hungarian Horntail, and ancient judging by the size, obviously female, with the slightly thinner snout and slender torso giving it away to any who knew dragons. The Patronus was so powerful in fact that the silver flames it produced actually physically burned the Dementors as well, their black robes catching fire in a scorching white heat as quickly as dried Acromantula webs, their screams echoing in the night. A kiss from Hermione Granger actually destroyed 4 Dementors, Dracoria vowed to never forget.

The hours after her discovery was awarded with nervous pacing and deep thinking, what if she could grow more powerful, but how? Oh... OH! **OH!** Of course! Dracoria actually jumped in the air with glee, thousands of years of magical history and power lay a few doors down the hall, and all she had to do was learn it.

It took another year, but Dracoria had thought she had finally learned enough. She thanked her Eidetic memory more than several times in her life, and especially now. Over one thousand books, scrolls and tablets, and still there was more! Lifetimes of knowledge lay yet unread, but what she had learned, she never thought possible. Curses to boil the blood of your victim, spells to slip past the most powerful charms and wards without alerting the creator, rituals of every kind, from summoning rain to healing an entire village, she learned more of wards than she suspected even the Goblins didn't know about, she actually recognized all the wards of _White Lodge_ now, and how to recreate them.

She learned how to find and control her Animagus form, much quicker than standard wizarding textbooks would have you believe, their method was so primitive and cruel compared to the simple and easy method she found in an old Russian tome. Unsurprisingly, her form turned out to be the very same dragon that emerged as her Patronus. All her life flying a broom never prepared her for the exhilarating feeling of stretching her wing muscles and soaring just below the edge of the Fidelius, her form was massive, easily 30 or more meters in length, yet her body was lithe and swift, with a wingspan that darkened the house completely under her shadow. Sending testing and timid gouts of flame on the grounds around her house, even timid the flames burned brighter and hotter than any mundane flame, short of Fiendfyre. She found the colour of her scales to be a deep obsidian, same as her hair, with hints of purple, sharp jagged horns ran along her head, and an extra sharp horn in the shape of two sickles facing outwards from each other ended on her tail, her eyes, the same bright orange as her human eyes, but larger and with obvious reptilian slits, orange eyes being very rare, even in the magical world.

Wandless magic! Something she thought impossible, not since the time of Merlin has there been anyone who could do more than levitate a feather with their hand, and only for a few short seconds. It was extremely difficult; requiring the user to calculate on the fly arithmetic equations in their head to "trick" your magic into believing your hand is a magical foci. But thanks to her memory and brilliant mind, Dracoria was quickly becoming quite proficient; she felt her magic expand outwards, every time she successfully cast a spell with her hand, somehow the act of casing without a wand forces your magic to grow in order to compensate for the drain it would otherwise require. Still it was not without its drawbacks, constant use, would tire her greatly.

She learned all of Voldermorts tricks. Such as how he was able to fly without a broom, suspended in air, surrounded by that miasmic cloud of darkness. It was actually quite simple really, it acted as a half-way between apparition and flight, she could feel the squeeze but otherwise it felt like flying in a thick dark cocoon, but leaving her vision unimpaired, the speed of travel depends on how much magic you squeeze into it, most exhilarating! She learned that Parseltongue was originally a ritual that was taught to the worshipers of Quetzalcoatl, the Mayan Feathered-Serpent god. The worshippers would then be able to communicate with "His children", she promptly performed the ritual, after all, Riddle was the last to carry the gift, and Potter's died with Riddle's horcrux. She then realized that she was no longer thinking of him as Voldemort, having recently acquired more power than he could possibly dream of, somehow, he became tinier in her view of him, how amusing!

Slinky was ecstatic that her Domina was actually happy and eating more than twice a week. She begun a new annoying habit of bursting into tears whenever she saw Dracoria, sobbing about how happy she is, and how good her Domina is to her, "Do..Do...Domin-a is goooo-d to Slinky, S..Slinky doesn't de-deserve such a kind Do-omina!" only to quietly stop when Dracoria gently started petting the poor creature on the head and whisper sweet nothings into her trembling ears.

The Deathly Hallows. That was the final step in her plan before she left this world; she already possessed the cloak, having "acquired" it from Potter, when she captured him to bring to Riddle, all those years ago. How foolish she was back then, thinking Riddle could show her real power, he was nothing more than a Hedgewizard compared to her now.  
The stone and the wand, now _that_ is going to be interesting. She has no idea where the stone is, but she knows that Potter is the current wielder of the wand, all she needs to do is disarm him, and the wand will be hers, and if she can get Potter to reveal where the stone is, all the better!

"Slinky!" she yelled, in an instant the Prima Elf of _White Lodge_ appeared before Dracoria with a loud _pop_! "How may Slinky serve Domina?" the elf pleaded. "I'm going out for a bit, please start packing clothes into the large metal trunk I have placed in my room, as well as food and other supplies you think I'll need for a long journey." Dracoria could see the worry plastered all over Slinky's face, "Don't worry Slinky, I'll be fine, you know how powerful Domina is don't you?" The elf nodded with a revered expression, evidentially Slinky _did_ know how powerful her Domina is, Dracoria could see the fear and respect in her eyes. "Good." Dracoria replied with a sagely nod.

_"So, not much has changed these past 8 years it seems."_ Dracoria mused with a gleeful look as she gracefully made her way to the visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic in London. She climbed into the tight box charmed to look like a muggle telephone box that refused to accept muggle money and even spat out vile insults to any muggle who attempted to speak through the receiver, much to the entertainment and derision of some. She held out her hand, beginning some quick calculations and with a swift tap onto the receiver with her finger spoke with a clear authoritative voice; "Lady Dracoria Black here to see Head Auror Potter please."

"One moment please." A feminine voice answered back from the receiver, not the gruff male voice you would hear if you where a muggle, and far less polite. Suddenly the box began to shift down into the earth, and from the dish that would normally vomit out muggle money, instead produced a small round, green badge that said "Lady Black, here to see H.A.P." Smiling at the humorous acronym Dracoria delicately pinned the badge onto her black dragonhide trench coat. Some would argue that a trench coat is a terrible thing to wear to a fight, but not with the right enchantments! Her coat was older than Walburga Black herself and was as unrestrictive as the loosest of robes, and was protected with powerful charms including ever warm and cooling charms, depending on the temperature outside, not to mention the natural protection of dragonhide. It fit her lithe figure perfectly, and complimented nicely with the heavy tight black denim jeans, thick black dragonhide boots, and a semi-loose black lace corset that showed her respectable cleavage as well as some of her warding tattoos, giving her an overall dangerous and mysterious look, she also practically hummed with power, her thin delicate shoulder-length hair sometimes danced with errant magic, and Dracoria wasn't bothered about everyone knowing.

The box cart softly came to a halt a few minutes after it had begun its descent, the doors opened and Dracoria calmly walked into civilization for the first time in 8 years. Wizards and witches of various ages and wealth stalked past her in various directions, some appeared to be in a hurry, while others walked with a steady slow pace that screamed "AUTHORITY FIGURE!" to Dracoria, she knew them to be Aurors in their unforgettable blood-red robes. All of them had their eyes on her. Ignoring the Aurors for know, Dracoria continued walking towards the nearest queue, which was shambling towards a desk, behind which sat a man with an utterly bored expression clearly visible on his face for the entire world to see. She took a moment to look around herself, the entire hall was massive, and could easily fit her dragon form here with enough space for 3 more! The walls, floors and ceiling appeared to be made out of some dark jade stone, and all around here people walked in and out of floo networks in bright green bursts, illuminating the entire hall in that eerie green light. She was broken out of her musings by the voice of one of the Aurors, who was standing behind her, his hand was across her shoulder and it was open, indicating he wanted her wand. "Your wand please Milady Black, we don't know how you've managed to escape out of Azkaban, since you've obliviated the Aurors there and killed 4 Dementors, bloody soulsuckers are scared shitless of you, they won't obey orders to hunt you but rest assured, we'll find another place for you, and we won't make the same mistake twice about leaving any brooms behind." He barked in a thick Scottish brogue and with a dry dark chuckle at the end, clearly he wanted to see her suffer again. The whole hall suddenly stood deathly silent as soon as the Auror said the name "Black." Everyone knew her from the _Daily Prophet,_ her ghostly images still haunted the pages of the esteemed wizarding newspaper. "I've come as a guest of the Ministry." Dracoria calmly stated, she pointed to her badge for added effect. "Therefore under Article 7, sub-section H of the Wizengamot law I hereby seek asylum within these walls, let any who protests my claim be stripped of magic!" she yelled the last word as an effect and several people literally jumped out of shock and fear, _"The last line wasn't true, but it was fun to scare people again, even if it's harmless"._ Dracoria mused.

She heard several of the Aurors swear, and the one behind her forcefully, and with no great care grabbed her arms above the elbows and almost roared into her ear "You think you're pretty smart huh Black?! Let's see how smart you are after Weasely works you over." "Fine, lead the way Auror, I submit to you." She added the last line with a seductive purr, one of the Aurors coughed uncomfortably. "Your wand then!" He asked again, rather more forcefully this time, with a clear warning of _"Don't fuck with me little girl" _written all over it. "Oh I didn't bring it with me; I shan't need it you see." She replied, with a tone of voice implying that it was the order that was silly, not the answer. One of the Aurors laughed, as if he just heard the most humorous joke, "Quiet Spence, or I'll have you cleaning out the Owlry for a week!" the Auror holding her barked towards the Auror named Spence, who visibly cowed, as if slapped across the face, "Yes sir." he drawled back, with a clear note of sarcasm. Auror Spence was a tall, lanky man with a large crooked nose, warm brown eyes and loose dirty blond hair that fell to his ears; he had a rather outrageous handlebar moustache that hid his other features well, for if not then everyone would see his cheeks still red with mirth.

They led her down several corridors, eventually leading to an elevator that went horizontally as well as vertically. Auror McLoch, the Scotsman over twice her height, and she was no shrimp at 6'2 forcefully pushed her into the waiting lift. She regained her composure, turned around and smiled serenely at the 3 Aurors "accompanying" her to Auror Weasley's office. She got a good look at the rest of her captors now, Auror McLoch is a giant of a man, almost as large as the Hogwarts groundskeeper Hagrid, but not as broad, he has a stern face amongst a forest of ginger hair, _"He certainly looks like Hagrid though." _She thought with a smirk. She looked at his eyes and saw two black pits that screamed bloodshed and war, regret, sorrow and pitiless rage directed at her, _"I must have killed one of his then"._ She gave him a sad regretful smile and a single tear ran down her cheek, he blinked from confusion. The other man avoided her gaze, so she could not get a proper look at him; she noted the greasy black hair, the pallid skin and the hollow rings under his eyes though.  
"Bit late for tears now ain't it lass?" McLoch asked, in an odd soft voice, as if speaking to a child who's being punished. "It never is." She whispered back. McLoch merely nodded and the 3 stepped into the carriage, a metal grate slammed in front of the entrance, and the carriage sped off eastwards.

They rode in silence, apparently the hate and anger had seeped out of McLoch, and instead he observed her intently with an open expression of curiosity. Finally the carriage stopped and another feminine voice, similar to the one in the telephone box said "Department of Magical Law Enforcement, level 2." "Right, that means us." McLoch stated pointlessly as he yanked the steel grate away with a flick of his wand, they stepped out and began walking towards a very thick set of double oak doors, they flung open as they approached and the group stepped into a large, dimly lit hallway, doors on either side, each being an office or some other type place. Eventually they reached a door near the end of the hall that said "Interrogation Room" and below another sign, this one written in messy cursive; "Clean up after yourselves!"  
Dracoria raised an eyebrow and looked at McLoch who merely shrugged and knocked forcefully on the door 3 times.

"Come in." A muffled male voice answered and McLoch pushed the door open and looked at the other two Aurors, who merely nodded and both grabbed her arms and stood stiffly either side of her as they half-dragged, half-pushed her into the interrogation room. The room was unremarkable, completely empty and void of any furniture except a wooden desk and two chairs in the middle. Ronald Weasely sat in the chair facing the entrance, and motioned for her to sit on the chair facing him. The two Aurors let go of her arms and moved away to stand either side of the entrance, their hands clasped in front of them. Dracoria sat in the chair with an easy grace fitting any Pureblood and looked at Weasely with an intense stare, the kind a scientist gives to a very interesting experiment.

Weasely ignored her and looked at McLoch, "Any problems?" Weasely asked in a curt professional manner. "No sir, she just came in through the visitors entrance and approached the registration queue, she didn't bring a wand, the wards confirmed it once we stepped out of the atrium, she's also requested asylum within the Ministry". Weasely merely nodded, any questions he had he was obviously waiting for the interrogation to begin. "Very good McLoch, you may go." The large Scotsman gave Weasley a sharp nod, and walked out the open door, closing it gently behind him.

Dracoria observed that the youngest Weasely son had grown a rather fetching beard, still the same ginger as his hair. They sat in silence for a while, each staring at each other intently, a game of wills. _"But my will is stronger!" _Dracoria inwardly smirked, her face, a mask of polite indifference. Indeed, as if he heard her, Weasely blinked and looked away for a second, using this as a victory, Dracoria pushed further. "I won't say anything to you or any other Auror except Potter, bring that mutt Lupin too, this concerns him as well." She stated in a sharp authoritative voice that reverberated throughout the room like a cannon and making the greasy haired Auror twitch violently for a second. Weasely gave her another hard searching look, his face filtered through several emotions, first shock, then anger then confusion and finally went back to that cool masquerade he must have learned from the Aurors, she could tell he desperately wanted to argue and scream at her. "Fine!" he spat after a few moments and looked at the greasy haired Auror, "Bring them." Weasely ordered, "Yes sir" replied the greasy Auror in a thin timid voice, he turned, opened the door and walked out, closing the door behind him with a little more force than McLoch.

The door opened again after what felt like 10 minutes. Potter walked into the room with a confident and sharp military stroll, with a flick of his wand he summoned a large red leather high-back chair and sat down facing her next to Weasely... _"That's it! That's the Elder Wand, such power!" _Dracoria thought as she observed the fabled Death Stick Potter held in his hand. The wand was humming in power, much like she was but to a lesser extent, still, no other wands hummed. Lupin followed afterwards; closing the door behind him he walked past her and stood behind Potter, eyeing her with a curious and wary expression.

Dracoria noticed that Potter looked much more handsome now that he was a man; his jaw was more refined, covered in thick black stubble. He no longer wore his glasses, _"Must have corrected his eyesight."_ Dracoria surmised. Lupin looked more healthy and happier than the last time Dracoria saw him, back at the Battle of Hogwarts, his eyes no longer held the large bags they used to, and his cheeks where less gaunt. His marriage to Nymphadora Tonks obviously the cause.  
"I've called you all here because I have found something very important to our community." Began Dracoria with a polite politicians drawl, she reached into her left coat pocket of her coat, enchanted to be bottomless, and pulled out a small glass case that grew in size as it left the confines of her pocket. The glass case held The Flower of The Moon that she found in _White Lodge_, minus a small petal she extracted for herself. She carefully placed the box on the table and leaned back with a smug smile.

Instantly Lupin's eyes turned a bright shade of icy blue as he saw what was inside the case and he began to whine like a bitch in heat. "Th...That's not possible, it's ex-extinct!" He practically yelled in panic. "No, as you can clearly see it's quite real Professor Lupin." Replied Dracoria in a mocking tone. "What is it?!" Potter blurted out, he was quite startled by the reaction of his old teacher and long time friend. "I'll let you explain Professor; after all, this is your area of expertise." Dracoria stated with a hearty chuckle. "Tha..." Lupin cleared his throat, "That's The Flower of The Moon, it holds within its petals the only known cure for Lycanthropy, thought to be extinct 1000 years ago, it has a very strong effect on Werewolves, as you must have noticed." He explained with a shy chuckle, his eyes returning to their usual brown shade.

"Holy shit Remus, this is huge!" exploded Weasely in excitement, he gazed at the flower in awestruck wonder. The flower was deep black in colour and seemed to sway as if caught in a gentle breeze, despite being sealed inside. Small waves rippled on the surface of its petals. Dracoria knew enough about the flower to know that when it is exposed to moonlight, it changes colour into a bright dazzling white. "Yes it is, I have no idea where you found it, we'll get to that later, but I must ask, what's the cost?" Potter asked carefully, he stared at her with a piercing, analytical gaze. "Two things, well three, but we'll get to that later, first, a full pardon, signed by you and the Minister, second, some information." Dracoria replied eagerly as she grinned at Potter.  
"A pardon isn't out of the question, so long as you answer all our questions truthfully, normally I would have said no automatically but since this is a very big deal to the Wizarding World, I'll consider it." Potter replied quickly. Everyone in the room was staring at him as if he had just kissed Riddle. Dracoria was shocked, she had expected him to outright deny her request for a pardon, hoping to use it as a method of distraction. _"Nothing changes; this is just a nice bonus." _She concluded.

"A pardon?! Are you bleeding mad Harry, this woman killed 16 muggle-borns!" Weasely yelled at his best friend and boss, pointing an accusatory finger at Dracoria. "Ron, think about it this way, we get what is undoubtedly the greatest gift to wizarding and werewolf kind everywhere, if this means pardoning one criminal, I'm all for it, we can always add conditions to her pardon." Replied Potter calmly. "Harry I don't know, while this is huge, and yes I would love to not be a werewolf anymore, but we still can't excuse the fact that she's a mass murderer, I can't in good conscience profit over dead innocents." Lupin added carefully, as he began pacing thoughtfully around the room. He stopped pacing suddenly and turned to face her, "What's the information that you wanted?" he asked her with a wary look. _"Lupin has always been a sharp one." _Dracoria mused to herself. "I wanted to know how Potter survived the killing curse the second time, his mother wasn't there to die for him again." Asked Dracoria with a smirk, she could see Potter's mouth twitch with annoyance. "You're after the Hallows aren't you? I know you have my cloak, and I saw you eyeing my wand, and I know you know how I survived." Potter began; he had a furious look in his eyes. "Now I get it, you don't care about any pardon and that flower is just a distraction, you came here for my wand and to find out where the stone is didn't you?" He exploded as he jumped out of his chair, pointing the Elder Wand at her.

"Expelliarmus!" Dracoria roared as she completed the necessary calculations, and with a swift twist of her arm, the Elder Wand came shooting out of Potter's hand and into hers, she could feel the connection immediately, the core of the Elder Wand connecting with her magic in a sudden jolt of energy. Before anyone had time to react Dracoria cast the Dark Flight spell (it didn't have an official name) zoomed towards a startled Potter, grabbed him by his neck with her left hand and crashed through the wall behind him.

The cocoon of darkness protected her from most of the damage, and she held Potter in such away so that he would absorb some hits too. Still the trek through what seemed like a mile of earth and rock wasn't pleasant and Dracoria sighed with relief as they eventually burst out of the concrete pavement of a London road and zoomed off into the night sky. After a few minutes of searching, Dracoria found an abandoned concrete yard that held some muggle automobiles. She landed gracefully, the dark cloud around her swiftly evaporating in the air. Potter was unconscious, from lack of oxygen or a hit on the head, Dracoria didn't care, and she let him fall on the ground in a boneless heap. Taking a step back, Dracoria pointed the Elder Wand at him and cast a wordless Ennervate. Potter awoke with a jolt of his body and with a sharp hiss, stood up and faced her. "Black, whaddya..." he never finished his question as Dracoria spat out "Crucio!" pouring as much hate into the spell as possible. Potter screamed and dropped violently on the ground as if stunned, and began convulsing on the floor. Dracoria released him from his agony after a few seconds, and as he turned to face her again, she locked onto his bright green orbs that stared at her with fury and yelled "Legilimens!"

She imagined herself as a flaming meteorite as she began hurtling into Potter's mind, the sudden Cruciatus and mind attack put Potter off-guard, and his Occlumency shield wasn't as strong as it could have been, just as she had planned. She slammed into his shield with such force that it shattered instantly, and Dracoria began gleefully sorting though his memories. After a few moments she found what she was looking for, she saw through his mind's eye as he dropped the stone in a clearing of the Forbidden Forrest. Satisfied with her work, Dracoria pulled out of his mind and with the loud "_crack!"_ of displaced air. Dissaparated away.

She arrived just outside the Hogwarts wards, the same hill that Riddle and his army used before he attacked the school. Casting Dark Flight again, Dracoria soared through the air, over the Black Lake and finally over the forest itself, the night was moonless and cloudy, and the forest was dark and thus making it difficult to find a particular clearing, but Dracoria knew where to go, Potter's memories, as clear as her own, lead her there. She found the clearing after a few minutes of searching, and landed roughly, in her excitement she forgot to control the spell properly and thus tumbled embarrassingly. After picking herself up, she started looking around with her wand held above and behind her head, with a Lumos she quickly casted. Even with the clearing brightly illuminated it took some time to find the small octahedron made of a polished black stone, but find it she did, and as soon as she picked it up, it was cold to the touch, and she felt the same jolt of energy as she had with the wand, the stone, clearly recognized her as the new Master of Death. With a satisfied smirk, Dracoria began shifting into her dragon form.

Dracoria immensely enjoyed terrifying the wizards, witches and muggles on her leisurely way home, she took care not to cause property damage, and even greater care not to harm anyone, but it was exhilarating watching the flames dance, a primal part of her subconscious urged her to begin hunting the tiny humans in front of her. After she was satisfied with her results, a Hungarian Horntail ancient suddenly appearing out of know where would cause quite a media circus, both in the wizadring and muggle world. She landed in a large field, changed to her human form and apparated back to _White Lodge_, eager to begin preparations for her journey to another world.

It took a few months of planning, procuring supplies and checking her notes carefully but Dracoria was finally ready to make the portal. Slinky had done as she had asked; she stuffed the closets, pantry and chests full inside the iron trunk with clothes food and other essentials. The iron trunk held a small comfortable room that looked like it belonged in Hogwarts, complete with a king sized bed, a kitchenette, a gigantic wardrobe, various tables and empty shelves for books. The shelves did not remain empty for long; she filled them to the brim with all 7 years of Hogwarts curriculum, figuring that she could potentially teach magic to anyone who has the gift and a chest contained a few hundred wands too. Various books on the flora and fauna of earth, magic and mundane, some dark arts books, and 20 or so large black tomes for her to make notes in for others to read later. In the end the massive iron trunk held everything she could potentially need, including chests heaving with vials of ingredients, magical and mundane, as well as a very expensive and well crafted potions set she found at _White Lodge_. Shrinking her trunk and future home, she dropped it into the pocket of her dragonhide coat.

Dracoria flew to _Thatcher Rock_ on her new Firebolt 3, deciding a good broom is never a bad thing to have on her journeys. As she approached the rock she could see the illusion melt away, as the top half of the rock disappeared, as if cut by a vast knife. She landed on the smooth surface of the rock, and noticed the intricate symbols, glyphs and sigils that covered the entire surface which was required for the portal spell, fused to the rock as if burned onto it with a torch. _"So old Philorinus beat me to it huh?" _mused Dracoria, it saved her the time of remaking them at least! She walked to the centre of the stone, approaching the nexus, the heart, of the ritual. She willed the Elder Wand to appear, and it shot out of the special invisible dragonhide wand holster, charmed with a confundus charm and impervious to disarming spells while holstered. Holding it steady she began to trace the arithmetic glyphs and numbers required for the portal, they hung in the air and burned with a dull orange colour. As she was working, Dracoria noticed that the patterns on the ground began to slowly fill in with the same dull orange colour as her equations, the light spread from around the nexus.

The rock began to shake as she was completing the required equations, the waved crashed mightily against the rock, covering her from head to food in icy cold water but she didn't relent, she **HAD **to finish! Never had she worked this hard, even with the Elder Wand she felt a massive drain on her magic, and she was deeply glad of the training she put herself through. For the ritual to work you had to either know where you wanted to go, or if you didn't you had to think of a place you would _like_ to go. As Dracoria neared the end of the sequence, she was beginning to lose focus, the strain was unbearable now, she felt like she was about to collapse from exhaustion. As the last of the light touched the edge of the ritual pattern, a massive shockwave struck her with great force from the centre of the nexus, this was it, this was the moment, if she didn't think of a place now then the spell would destabilize and cause a massive shockwave, destroying everything in a 100 mile radius. Time seemed to slow down as the shockwave passed through her, she could see every individual spark of pure magic, and in the centre, what looked like a bright white star, shone brightly, she was memorized by its beauty, and she thought of the first thing that came to her head _"I wish to love." _A bright white light overtook her, and Dracoria knew no more.

**Ok, so this is my first story so please bear with me, I don't have a beta but I'm very anal about errors so you hopefully won't see too many. I'll try to update as much as I can, put please do review the prologue, and I would love to see what you guys think.**

**Thank you for reading!**


	2. Chapter 1

"Dean, look at this!" yelped Samantha Winchester or Sam to anyone who knew her or cared to know her, she grabbed her brothers leather jacket and pushed the newspaper into his face. The article showed a picture of a gruesome reptilian skull with jagged horns and a snake crawling out of its open jaw; both the snake and the skull appeared to be made out of celestial light, although it was hard to tell from the black and white image. "You figure it's..." began Dean; Sam rolled her eyes and gave Dean an amused look, "Obviously, and look, we're not far from where the picture was taken, let's go!"

The ride on the way to Ocean Plains, Oklahoma took about two hours in the Winchester shiny black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, Sam was looking through their father's journal to figure out what it could be while Dean was singing along to _"Wrathchild" _by Iron Maiden while driving. "I can't find anything in dad's journal, nothing about skulls and snakes in the sky, look for a motel with wireless, I'll see if I can find anything on the net." Sam spoke with frustration as she slammed the journal closed and tossed it carelessly on the back seat. Dean didn't say anything since this was fairly common, dad knew a lot of things, but even the great John Winchester hadn't seen everything, and they've been running into some strange shit the last couple of months.

They eventually found a decent looking motel called _"White View Motel" _and parked outside. They quickly paid for a room and began to unpack. Sam went straight for the laptop in her bag and began to furiously type away. Dean chuckled at his sister and began to clean his Colt 1911, today would be a long night.

After many hours of fruitless searching Sam eventually gave up and went to bed, thinking some old fashioned investigative research would be the key, and went to sleep with a smile on her lips. They both awoke the next day to the sound of screaming and yelling, they looked at each other for a second, a quick wordless exchange only siblings are capable off, and without further ado, both exploded out of their beds and began to grab as many weapons as possible on their way out the door.

They followed the sounds of screaming and yelling and ran out into the street, a building across from them was on fire, and the roaring blaze almost completely covering what looked to be a shop. Several people had managed to run out but screams could be still heard inside. The Winchesters began to run towards the building when suddenly the flames began to draw back inside, as if someone had activated a giant vacuum cleaner, within seconds the shop was free of flames, and not even a spark could be seen amongst the charred wreckage, even the smoke was gone. Dean gave his sister a wary look as he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his Colt. Sam nodded in agreement and pulled out her own sidearm as they approached the building cautiously, gingerly stepping over fallen ceiling beams and charred products the shop once had.

Pale beams of mid-day light shone through the giant holes that once were the ceiling, Sam saw a woman standing in the far right corner of the building, she was wearing a long black leather trench coat, muttering something and holding what looked to be a long stick. Before Sam could ask if she was all right, the woman looked at her with large golden eyes and... Vanished, Sam blinked to be sure, yes, she wasn't there anymore, and she looked at Dean to check if he'd seen it but he was looking at the other side of the shop. "Weird." Sam whispered to herself, but Dean had heard her. "What?" he replied looking back at her, "Well, aside from the fire disappearing, I just saw a woman who disappeared too!" Dean blinked and gave her a bemused look, "I swear! She was right there in that corner, she was muttering something that sounded like Latin, and she saw me and disappeared!" Sam whispered back at Dean with in a furious tone, "Latin huh? Maybe she's a demon?" Dean asked after a few seconds of thought, "Why would a demon put out a fire? Sam returned with a snort, "Well whatever she is, can't be good, I say we ask around, and see if anyone's seen her." Dean stated matter-of-factly as he holstered his weapon, Sam did the same as they both walked out of the wreckage.

Unsurprisingly they quickly found information on who the strange woman was; also, unsurprisingly she arrived at the same time as the lights in the sky. They learned that she was staying in the same motel they where, which bothered them but the Winchesters ignored it, they where after all Hunters, and where pretty confident they could handle anything, especially with two of them.

Dean knocked on the door three times, the owner of the motel had given them the room number after they had shown him their fake FBI badges, and now they waited with bated breath as braced for anything. The door opened and Sam took a good look at the woman he had seen at the burned down shop. She was beautiful, just over six feet tall with a slim and lithe figure with pert breasts, _"C cup." _Sam guessed. She was wearing a black leather trench coat that travelled to her ankles, a black lace corset, tight black denim jeans and black leather boots with 2 inch heels that reached up halfway to her knees. Strange black symbols could be seen tattooed all over the exposed areas of her chest. She had a sad haunted look with dark circles under her brilliant golden eyes; she had a strong jaw, petite nose and pale white skin, her lips where full and lovely, she wore no makeup but had her own natural beauty. Long jet black hair fell gracefully around her shoulders and Sam could swear she saw several strands move about, as if caught in a light breeze.

"Hi, I'm Agent Angus and this is Agent Young, we're with the Federal Bureau of Investigations, may we come in?" asked Dean in his _"Authority Voice"_ as they both flashed her their counterfeit badges to go along with their prim and plain black suits, trousers for Dean, skirt for Sam. The woman nodded and stepped aside, motioning them to come in. They walked inside the plainly decorated motel room, and she closed the door behind them. "Make yourselves at home; I'll be along in a minute." She stated in a melodic and posh English accent as she walked passed them and into the bedroom, closing the bedroom door behind her.

"Did you see her tattoos? Freaky. Nice rack though." Dean stated after a while with a chuckle and a sly grin. But before Sam could reply the door opened and the woman walked out again, she stopped a few meters in front of them and stared at them with a wary and calculating expression. "What do you want?" she asked with displeasure, and Sam noticed the tension in the room suddenly shot up, she unconsciously started hovering her hand over the holster of her pistol. "We're just wandering how you stopped that fire earlier." Began Sam cautiously, her eyes never leaving the strange woman. "Oh, well... I'm a witch." Stated the woman as if this was a normal every day thing, like telling someone you're a vegetarian. Instantly Dean whipped out his Colt and started firing at the woman, in a blink of an eye the same stick Sam saw earlier appeared in the woman's right hand and she waved it across from her, the bullets struck an invisible barrier that rippled and flashed a bright blue as each bullet impacted, with a snarl the woman swiped the stick again and Dean's gun came soaring out of his hand with an invisible force and off into the corner of the room. "I just told you I'm a witch and you insult me with bullets?!" the woman screeched with indignity, the stick pointed in the space between the Winchesters. Dean raised his hands in supplication and Sam did the same, they both shared a nervous glance and Sam cleared her throat and looked back at the witch. "We're sorry but normally witches harm people, that's why my brother reacted that way." She began nervously, the woman started pacing back and forth but never looking away from them and the hand holding the stick never swayed too far from either of them. "What do your witches use to cast magic?" she asked after a while, looking at Sam intently. "Well, hex bags usually, some use candles and such for rituals." Sam answered, confused at the question. _"If she's a witch, shouldn't she know all this?" _Sam asked to herself.

Nothing prepared Sam or Dean for her response, the woman was silent for a moment, shock written on her face as if she had heard the most ridiculous thing in her life. After a few seconds she burst out laughing, an infectious melodic guffaw that held a hint of madness. After what seemed like a whole minute the woman eventually calmed down, her cheeks bright red and her eyes sparkling with mirth and tears. "Oh fuck I haven't laughed like that in over 10 years! Hex bags! How barbaric!" She barked with an infectious grin. Before Sam could react the woman waved her left hand at her and she force in place, completely paralyzed, her eyes danced around in fear. "Uh uh uh, stay there please, don't worry your sister will be fine, just paralyzed, all I want to do is look into your memories, won't take long!" she stated in a melodic whimsical tune, before Dean had time to react she rounded the stick to his head and shouted "Legilimens!"

A rush could be felt in the room, like a gust of air forming a current, originating from the stick, it hit Dean in the head and he let out a startled cry, both his and the woman's eyes turned dull, as if dead. After a few moments their eyes returned to their usual shade and Dean cried out again, as if dunked in a bath of ice water, he fell on his knees and started gasping for air, clutching his head in agony. "My apologies but it had to be done Dean Winchester." She stated with a smile, turned to Sam and waved the stick at her, suddenly she could feel her body respond to her again and she half rushed and half stumbled to Dean, she leaned down and started to help him up. "Allow me to introduce myself." Began the witch, as if she speaking at a formal reception. She took a step back, swished her stick... Wand? In front of her, holding it aloft between her eyes and bowed, her left arm moving upwards in a graceful pattern. "My name is Lady Dracoria Black, of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, and you are Dean and Samantha Winchester, children of John Winchester, Hunters extraordinaire. Now, let us go find the demon that killed your mother!"


End file.
